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Sunday, 9 March 2014

By The Candlelight

Candles flicker at the end of the soap-sudded bathtub. Some have company; most are alone. Bubbles prickle and whisper and pop. A naked body with one silver chain, battling
the thoughts within. A time when
thoughts bounce around your head, tasting the temptation of letting themselves
free or otherwise remaining forever in secret.

The bubbles begin to disappear, revealing the bare skinned
body to the empty room. A naked
soul. For none to see. The pen meets paper but the thoughts won’t
come. There are no words.

A pen lid. Submerged
in water. Drowning in words; dispersing splotched
ink. Swimming in a sea of what could be
written. But never to be seen. These crispy, yet soft damp pages, of
thickness and trust. Will one day turn
to dust.